


Summer lovin' had me a blast

by mrstrentreznor



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M, Fluff, JBNP, Recreational Drug Use, summer in La Push
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:11:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrstrentreznor/pseuds/mrstrentreznor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie Swan is young; it's summertime and he and his friends hang at the beach at La Push.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer lovin' had me a blast

**Summer loving, had me a blast.**

By mrstrentreznor

Rating: M some mention of drugs

Pairing: Charlie/Renée

Written for the summer in La Push one shot competition on JBNP

_Disclaimer: the characters and all recognisable situations belong to Stephenie Meyer - this is a work of fan fiction, except for the legends and histories of the Quileute that, of course, belong to them. I pay my respects to their gods._

* * *

_**Summer 1986.** _

The deputy liked his uniform. Sure it was summer and kind of hot and he did tend to sweat a little in the close fitting uniform, but he thought he looked damn good. He was trying to develop that 'man in authority' swagger; you know the one where they hooked their thumbs through the front of their pants somehow; inflated their chest and looked over the top of their sunglasses a little.

He had to keep his dark hair trimmed otherwise it tended to curl and looked unruly. He stretched up to his full six feet and looked down his nose at an imaginary assailant.

He'd been practising that look in the mirror a lot. He was 23 and he should have known better… but it was the uniform. The uniform was seriously cool. Aviator shades. He'd have to get some of those like the cool pilots in Top Gun. Those guys wore uniforms too. _Seriously cool._

He tried to think of some great police-like phrases that he could use. Something better than 'license and registration'. He studied himself in the mirror, turning sideways and checking himself out. He didn't have a lot of chest to puff out; he was too slim. But he thought his ass looked okay. It was kind of hard to check out your own ass.

"What's the problem, little lady?" he practised. No; too John Wayne.

"If you don't already have a criminal record that is a stupid way to get one." That sounded cooler.

He heard the phone ring downstairs. He took one last look at himself.

"Charlie! Phone."

"Thanks, Dad." He jogged down the stairs to pick up the receiver balanced on the top of the kitchen telephone.

"Hello."

" _Charlie… can you come out for the weekend?"_

"I haven't asked yet, Billy."

" _Well you have to come… Quil has some new fireworks and Harry has brewed some firewater… Come on…"_

"I dunno…"

" _Just ask, Charlie… come out straight from work. They'll let you borrow the squad car won't they?"_

Silence.

" _Ask now… go on..."_

He sighed dramatically and covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "Dad… can I go out to La Push with Billy and Harry tomorrow afternoon?"

His father walked into the kitchen. Charlie had been a very late and an only child for the couple. They were well into their 40's when he had made an appearance. And now his mother was ill; Alzheimer's. She was losing herself a little more everyday. His father looked at his son's eager face. He wouldn't have many carefree summers left. "Sure," he agreed. "Why don't you make it the weekend?" he suggested. "Stay there. Drive back early on Monday morning and go into work from there?"

"Really?"

"You need to have some fun." A flash of guilt crossed his face. Charlie was a good son; asking permission at his age to spend time with his friends. Even if this was a recent thing; she wasn't getting any better. "Yeah, son," he encouraged. "You go… have fun."

"Thanks, Dad."

Charlie watched him walk out of the kitchen slowly. His father had his own illness to contend with, arthritis, but he wasn't going to argue about having a whole weekend off.

"Did you hear?" he whispered into the phone.

" _A little…"_

"I've got a leave pass for the whole weekend."

" _Righteous! I'll tell the boys."_

"I'll drive out straight after my shift."

" _Cool! See you then."_

"Wait up… what about Sarah?"

" _Man… she is huge… fuck, don't tell her I said that… but she is ready to pop. She said I could have some fun too. So we both have leave passes."_

* * *

He drove out to the familiar territory of La Push. He had a moment of regret for growing up. Billy was going to be a father, any day now. His childhood fishing buddy with twin babies. Twins. Responsibilities. He hoped they were boys. Billy was all about having a son to carry on the bloodlines.

He sang along with the radio.

The Monkees had reformed and were going to tour. Seemed like a big cash-in to him. And those English bands with the fluffy white pirate shirts; what was their name New Romantics or some shit; with names like Spandau Ballet. Dumb name for a band. What band puts 'ballet' in their name and expects to be taken seriously? Or the Pet Shop Boys? Really?

He preferred Joan Jett, Bonnie Tyler, Belinda Carlisle and Europe. What was that song? The final countdown. Now THAT was a catchy song.[AN: guarantee you are all humming  **that**  song now…]

He pulled up at the Ateara house. Sarah was not up to a bunch of young men staying over, so the plan was that they would camp on the beach. It was a fabulous summer and it would be fun; certainly Billy's last night of freedom. Sue Uley… Sue Clearwater he should call her now; had promised to stay with her. Her own baby was due months later, so they would probably grow up together; like all the kids on the rez. So Harry had a leave pass too.

He parked and grabbed his camping gear out of the back.

"Quil!" he shouted as he pounded up the stairs to the porch, tripping a little on the top step. Damn, he always caught his toe on that one. He was sure it was just a smidgeon higher than the other steps. They had actually measured them one day and he had lost that argument… but still. He couldn't be that clutzy.

"You ready?" he called again.

"Oh yeah… and guess what?" Quil Ateara IV, another of his best friends walked into the living room and threw a duffle bag onto the floor. Quil was built; he was as big as Arnie in the Terminator. He loved nothing more than letting it all hang out naked and quoting 'your clothes… give them to me, now!' They made him do the 'I'll be back' line too. That shit was funny.

"What?"

"Someone else has taken the best camping spot on the beach…" he sounded overjoyed.

"Really? So why are you so happy?"

"They're girls… and they're alone…" he said it with a religious intonation. Charlie rolled his eyes. Quil  _ **loved**_  girls. Whatever shape; whatever size… he just loved girls. Charlie was forming a theory that he could smell them from a good mile away. "They drove in this morning in a beat up old combi van… must be travelling the pacific highway… they look like hippies…. Gypsy skirts with little bells… the whole package."

"That doesn't mean they'll be easy-"

"Heck no. It means they might have drugs-"

"Quil…" Charlie reprimanded.

Quil whacked him across the chest with one meaty arm. "Yeah right, like you've never smoked any rez weed." He laughed.

Charlie made some strangled noise that Quil took for agreement.

"Do you reckon we could set up our tent right near theirs… share a fire…eh?" His eyebrows lifted suggestively. "Conserve some body warmth."

"Its summer," Charlie pointed out.

"It gets cold on the beach at night." He gave Charlie a look. "And you know that, too." He whacked him again. "What ever happened to her… the blond…?"

Charlie gave a shrug that looked more effortless than it was. "Dunno," he mumbled. "That was last year anyway."

"You gonna leave the uniform on… it looks… cool. You might scare them into doing something inappropriate," he suggested. He did a dramatic back of the hand held to the forehead thing, and adopted a high falsetto. "Oh no, officer… please don't arrest me… I'll do anything. I'll suck anything you want."

"Dumb ass. Women don't do that."

"Yeah, otherwise  _ **I'd**_  be a cop." He laughed. "Come on, we are in charge of gear, Billy is food and Harry is alcohol. We should get going." He rubbed his hands together. "Let's go find beautiful girls."

Charlie rolled his eyes.

* * *

And beautiful they were.

There were four of them too. Pity Harry and Billy were off the market. Quil just rubbed his hands together again. And they were stoned. They were giggling like loons.

"Too easy," Quil whispered to him.

They had been more than happy to share their camping spot and fire with the young men.

They all introduced themselves.

But Charlie only had eyes for one of them. She had long brown hair with a bit of a wave in it. It was parted simply down the centre, and tucked behind her ears. She had a habit of tucking it back with her fingers. She had big blue eyes.

She waved her arms around as she talked. And she talked a lot. And she laughed a lot. He got the impression that she always laughed a lot; it wasn't just the dope. She had given him a decent eye fuck in his uniform (thank god for the uniform) "Ooh officer," she squealed dramatically, "Are you going to arrest me?"

Quil snorted in the background.

Charlie grinned at her, "I don't think you have done anything wrong… _yet_."

She giggled. She held her hand out to him. "Renee Higginbotham," she introduced herself.

He pressed his lips to the back of her hand. "Charlie Swan." His dark eyes gleamed at her.

She patted the sand next to her. "You can sit right here, Charlie," she told him.

And he did.

 

**Author's Note:**

> posted at fanfiction.net - 1/08/2011 03:48:00 PM


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